


One Killer Smile

by girlskylark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Artist Lance (Voltron), Character Turned Into Vampire, M/M, Minnesota, One Night Stands, Repaying Debt, Vampire Keith (Voltron), Vampire Turning, Writer Keith, art student lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlskylark/pseuds/girlskylark
Summary: After getting blackout drunk at a club, Keith wakes up in Lance's bed, and realizes that Worse Case Scenarios are actually possible.The last thing Keith ever expected to do was turn a human—that was the vampire equivalent of killing a man, but that might have been a better option in hindsight.





	One Killer Smile

Lance McClain _didn’t_ regret. Regret was for the weak, the gloomy people in the world—at least, that was the sort of stigma he put on it. However, considering he had an entire week ahead of him full of interview after interview, he was seriously starting to reconsider his choice of one-night stands as he stared himself in the mirror the following morning.

The moment he flicked the light on in his apartment bathroom, he leapt in fright of seeing himself in the mirror. He hesitated in the threshold, and looked again, hand over his chest as he squinted at the sheer amount of _bruises_ peppering his torso. It looked like he spent the night out in a hailstorm without clothes on. Hail the size of _baseballs_. 

“Fuck me…” he breathed, pressing a finger to one particularly dark hickey on his throat. _This was…_ “Perfect,” he muttered, “just what I needed.”

His head throbbed as he showered, and continued to speckle his vision with black spots as he covered up the fact that he had one helluva night. It involved concealer, and _lots_ of it, but mostly, he couldn’t summon the energy to get too far ahead in that department. Instead, he went galavanting through his scarf collection and decided to blame it on the fact that he was in art school. People _expected_ male art students to be gay, might as well flaunt it with a few fashionable scarves. 

Lance scoffed at the misconception, but hesitated as he looked at himself in his bedroom mirror, and then again to the open drawer on his nightstand full of… things his straight friends would faint at the sight of. He kicked it shut.

Lance’s room was a mess of contradictions, but that seemed to be what he stood for, so he wasn’t complaining about it. He had a bed big enough for three people to sleep comfortably on, but he always made only half of the bed and left the other half wrecked from tossing and turning in his sleep. His desk was perfectly organized, but his floor was a disaster, littered with clothes he refused to clean unless his best friend Hunk came in and witnessed the disaster. And, despite the clean white wall where his mirror and closet stood, the other half of his room was completely covered in a tapestry, and pictures where the fabric couldn’t reach. 

Not exactly the bedroom of an almost-college-graduate.

But it wasn’t like his future bosses were going to see it (well…)

Lance wondered when another one of Hunk’s surprise visits would roll around. He could never be sure, so he started picking up clothes in a hurry, as if Hunk would burst in at any moment. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, but Lance couldn’t help the feeling. He also couldn’t help the feeling of being a bother to Hunk, with his untidiness and gross inconsistencies around the apartment. The kitchen was always spotless, but the living room was a disaster. The places he lived in seemed to be the dirties then—one half of the bed, the floor he always tread on, the wall he kept his mementoes on. He could only really seem to remember the times he was a bother to people—one of Hunk’s complaints about when they were roommates was that Lance was a messy human being.

_You were right—my life_ is _a mess_ , he thought to himself, thinking about how he was a month to graduation, and yet he still hadn’t landed a job. Some people might call him lazy. He wasn’t.

He wandered out of his bedroom and half-expected to find his guest lingering around, but nope, there wasn’t even a note on his kitchen counter. He went to the front door with a sigh, and made sure to lock it where the man had run off in such a hurry. _I would’ve run off too if I let this many spots on a person. I’m practically a leopard_ , Lance mused, laying a hand over his shoulder where the bruises were angry and red from bites. 

While Lance was making breakfast, his guest was fidgeting on a Metro bus putting as much distance between himself and his mistake. 

 

* * *

 

Keith was full of regret at all times of the day—this day in particular. Some might call him weak for it, but he wasn’t. It was impossible for him to forget the small things, and it was pure torture when that all came to the big things. Like his recklessness the night before.

Keith heard plenty of horror stories that justified the way he fled Lance’s apartment in the morning. The last thing he wanted was to _bite someone_ and then _seal the fucking deal_. There was a reason why his name was backed up by an endless contract ensuring his ultimate compliance with the law. One of the biggest rules? Easy:

Don’t spread your filthy vampiric genes to innocent bystanders. 

But, Keith always hated the term “vampire.” It was more of a health concern than some cool fantasy bullshit. He always thought his sharper canines were more… _primitive_ than _cool_. Like he was part canine or something. He could still recall the small things from back in grade school, when the biology of diseases and viruses mentioned his condition. He was suddenly just another number on a row of statistics that tracked the rise of the infection back to the sixties. Of course, the illness went far, _far_ back, but it was easier to parish from it back in the day than it was now. 

He fidgeted on the bus that would take him home, and stared out the window with a sense of absolute misery. He never wanted to put this on anyone else, least of all innocent bystanders. Back in grade school, he told himself that he wouldn’t wish this on anyone, and so he just wouldn’t seal the deal, so to speak. That tended to be the phrase of the day: seal the deal. Bites were fine, but excess saliva was what did it. And Keith went and did the whole thing. The bite. Sealing it with a few solid wet licks… 

Keith shuddered, pinching his thumb nail between his teeth.

Shiro was going to maim him for this. He was sure of it. Not only was it morally wrong, but illegal as well. It was violent, and the transition would change Lance’s life forever. He couldn’t be able to live carefree, eating whatever he wanted. _So long, fruits and vegetables_ …

He nearly missed his bus stop—his mind was somewhere else. Specifically, it was stuck in Lance’s room where the man was likely just now getting up and realizing how insane Keith was. Keith hurried out into the cold with a shiver, wondering what the hell made him go apeshit with Lance. Sure, he thought Lance was cute the second they made eye contact at the club, but that was no excuse for the state Keith left him in.

_All of the bruises…_

Keith put his hands on his face with a groan of distress as he approached his apartment. Lance had to be in college, too—Keith was out of college, but his condition tended to mask his age the older he got. He was twenty-five. What if Lance was something like nineteen? _Oh God… that’s so young to turn someone_ … he moaned internally as he trudged up the steps of his apartment.

He hesitated at his door, knowing that Shiro would be there, and would be scowling as soon as he heard what Keith had done. He never even considered not telling Shiro—that was out of the question. This shitshow was something Keith wasn’t equipped to deal with, because he never expected _to_ deal with it.

He knocked on the door before unlocking it and stepping inside. “Hey,” he said, and looked up to find Shiro sitting at the kitchen counter, fiddling away on his phone.

“Hey. How was your night?” he asked, and looked up then. 

Their eyes locked, and Keith couldn’t even control what sort of expression he was wearing. He looked down and locked the door, kicking his boots off into the slushy tray by the door. 

“That bad, huh?” Shiro commented. “What happened?”

“Not—Well, it wasn’t bad _last night_ ,” he started, grimacing as he realized that it was sounding a whole lot like an excuse. He didn’t want to make excuses, not for this. “I had a lot of fun last night. Probably… too much… I ended up in some guy’s apartment and—”

“Bad or good?”

“Good! Definitely good, but it got carried away— _I_ got carried away…” he said, trailing off. He hoped Shiro would pick up on it, but he didn’t. Turning other people was unheard of these days, especially after the whole shitshow that was The Sixties. It wouldn’t have been a stretch to call sealing the deal a taboo. It was the sort of talk their mothers would have hit them over the head for. 

Shiro squinted at him, and for a second, Keith thought Shiro got it. “If… you’re talking about sex…”

“No, I’m not talking about sex,” Keith sighed, slumping forward. “I- I bit him.”

“So?” 

“And… I…” He stuck his tongue out.

“Shit,” a voice spoke up from the hall. Shiro turned to look at their roommate Pidge, who’s glasses were slipping as she stared wide-eyed at Keith. “ _Shit_ , you turned him.”

Keith turned bright red at the accusation, ashamed and guilty and all-of-the-above. Shiro snapped his attention back to Keith, who tensed his shoulders up. He tried, _boy_ did he try, to mentally prepare himself for a verbal beating, but the look on Shiro’s face was enough to make him cry. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he all but gasped, putting his hands on his face. “I was so, _so_ drunk. I barely remember anything from last night, but when I woke up—it was obvious! It was _so_ obvious. He’s already bruising l-like his body doesn’t know how to heal itself—”

“Hey, hey, take a deep breath,” Shiro commanded, sliding off his stool as Pidge crossed her arms from the other side of the room. Keith had never seen such a look of pure disappointment on her face before, but now he was on the receiving end of it. He hated it. “If you don’t remember—How can you be sure?” 

“I just am,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I don’t think he’ll notice the holes from my canines or anything because the saliva already healed that…”

“What’s this about bruising?”

“Like, you know how… hickeys are just sorta… red?” he said, grimacing as Shiro gave him a flat look. “All of his are, like, _dark_ blue. Like, I _beat him_ instead of, you know.”

Shiro put his hands in his hair and turned to Pidge. Pidge shrugged at him. It was common knowledge that their condition tended to make them bruise awfully if they weren’t at top health. They were all healthy, though, and under the right diet. Lance was… Lance _wasn’t_ , but it would take a few days for the effects to settle in. It was in those few days, back in The Sixties, when “vampirism” spread like wildfire. Their instincts were fresh, their minds unaware of what their bodies needed, and a kinky bite on the shoulder turned deadly.

“I- I don’t have the money to deal with a lawsuit!” Keith exclaimed. “I never meant to—He was so nice, too, I never meant to do this to him…”

“We’ll just… We’ll just have to try and avoid a lawsuit,” Shiro said.

“And how do you propose _we_ do that?” Pidge demanded. “And since when was this a ‘we’ situation? Keith’s the one who turned the guy!”

“No, no, I just- I totally deserve it, though,” Keith insisted, and when Shiro turned back to him, alarmed, he couldn’t hold back the tears. “You know I do! I should be held accountable. And… and it’s not like I’m doing much with my life anyway! Prison might not be so… bad?”

“Prison,” Shiro huffed.

“Last record of a turning sent the guy to prison,” Pidge reminded him, but the look on Shiro’s face told them that this was the last thing he wanted to hear. She winced. “Sorry.”

“What else do you expect me to do?” Keith demanded of Shiro. “Hold his hand through and say stupid bullshit like ‘It’s all gonna be all right?’ Fuck that!”

This would be all over the news if anyone found out. Once Lance started feeling hungover constantly and cramping from the stomach pains, he’d go to the hospital looking for answers. Police would be involved then, demanding to know who did this to him. Lance would say, “This one night stand I had. His name was Keith.” They’d knock on the door of every Asian Keith in the Minneapolis area. They all knew what would happen after that.

“I should just tell him straight up,” Keith said. “That’s a better alternative to letting this go on. I’d be living like a ticking time bomb waiting for the cops to show up.”

Reluctantly, Shiro agreed with him. That was the best idea for the time being. Keith deflated with a sigh. He was relieved that Shiro reacted just as he had expected. He wasn’t sure if he could have handled a forgiving response, and this was all with Pidge glaring at him from across the room. He needed the blame, if only for his own sanity.

“I just... I just don’t get why you would have done it,” Shiro said. “I really don’t! You’ve never even liked biting people!”

“I was shitfaced, Shiro, what do you expect?”

“Anything but this! You’ve drunkenly bit Pidge before and could barely follow through with it!”

“You were pretty weak, I have to admit,” Pidge confessed. 

“That was different,” Keith insisted. “I _remember_ that. I don’t want to talk about this.”

He stormed off towards his room, and Shiro stared after him as he slammed the door, effectively shutting Pidge and Shiro out. Shiro knew exactly what Keith would do—he’d crawl into bed, hide under the covers, and foolishly wait for the anxiety of his situation to wash over. Insomnia would keep Keith from sleep, and so he’d just roil in the mud of his mind. The horrible thoughts would stick like wet dirt to him, and continue to make him feel like the disgusting human being he was for losing control. 

Keith continued to think about Lance, and tried to remember when he forgot everything. His memory became fuzzy somewhere after midnight, after he had spent nearly two hours dancing with Lance and his college buddies. He forgot absolutely everything once they walked out into the cold early morning for an Uber to Lance’s apartment. It was just the two of them.

Keith would be lying if he said he didn’t like Lance. For someone he had just met that night and fucked for fun, he was glad it was with Lance. He was just as upset, thought, that it was with Lance. If he had to bite someone, he wished it would have been someone else.

He looked at his phone, hoping he managed to get Lance’s number, but alas, there a Lance anywhere in his contacts. He’d have to go back to Lance’s place. 

_Great._

It was Sunday. 

Lance had shit to do.

He left the apartment the moment he could, and started his errands by sprinting to the bus stop to evade the cold. He hopped on, swiped his card, and collapsed into the nearest seat. Even though he was hiding dozens of love bites under his shirt, he was a lot more relaxed today than he had been in a while. Classes had his insides churning with anxiety over his future. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life working as a waiter at a Mexican restaurant during the weekdays, and at the museum on the weekends. 

But today… he wasn’t thinking about his future. He was relaxed, and in a puddle of calm vibes from having a _really_ good night out. He didn’t care that he had evidence of it under his scarf. That evidence was, perhaps, what made him so giddily happy. He smiled out the window, tucking his fingers to his chapped lips as he thought about how every other get-together ended with guys treating him like a fragile little thing. Just because he didn’t have an ounce of muscle on him didn’t mean he couldn’t take it, you know? 

And _boy_ , did Keith know he could take it. 

He all but purred at the thought of Keith wanting to get together again. Maybe they would, Lance wouldn’t complain. He’d just have to… set some rules regarding hickeys…

He hopped off the bus with a bounce in his step, and tucked his scarf around his mouth to ward off the chill. He walked into the shade of his friend’s apartment complex and went up to the entrance callbox. He buzzed her number, and waiting for her to let him in. A moment later, the door unlocked.

“God, you’re chipper this morning. No hangover?” Ezor commented after opening her door to Lance. 

He hummed for a moment, wondering if he did. Nope, definitely not. Hangovers tended to knock him over. “No, I’m good today. Ready?”

“Not exactly,” she huffed. “Come in, I’ll just be a minute.”

Lance followed after her as she slumped across her apartment, scratching at her messy pink bun. Her makeup was smudged beneath her eyes, and Lance noted a full pot of coffee sitting at the counter. He pointed to it, and she waved her hand to let him know it was up for grabs. He’d been to her apartment enough to know where everything was, and so he helped himself to a mug and filled it halfway with coffee, half with vanilla creamer. 

Another door opened in the apartment, and soon he found Narti wandering into the living room with a tired smile on her lips. “Hey, how are you? Did you survive last night?” he asked, grinning as Narti rolled her eyes.

She signed, “So-so. I saw you leave with that boy we met.”

_Always observant_ , he mused to himself, grinning at the thought of _that boy they met_. 

“Yeah, he stayed the night,” he answered.

“Wait, wait, wait, who stayed the night with who?” Ezor piped up from her room at the same time Narti pressed her middle finger to her chin and sharply turned it out to Lance. “ _Lucky_.”

Lance signed so Ezor wouldn’t hear him. “Says you—you already have a boyfriend.”

Narti stuck her nose up at him as Ezor cruised out of her room, shoving her head through the hole of her sweater. “Who had that guy stay the night? You did? Oh my God, you’re the sauciest devil I’ve ever seen,” she snapped at him. “That guy was all over you!”

“I know!” Lance cried triumphantly, hands on his hips. “I scored.”

“You did! Congrats!” Ezor laughed, throwing her hands up to high five him. “Narti, there’s coffee in the pot if you want any,” she said. Narti perked up and hurried to get her fill. 

As Ezor pulled on her boots and tied them, she asked, “Wait, so how was it? Did you two, you know?”

“Tango,” Lance said, shimmying his shoulders.

Narti dragged the sign for the letter “X” down her cheek. “Dirty,” Lance said with a giggle. 

“She literally just said ‘sex.’ You can’t even say it,” Ezor said.

“You just called it ‘you know.’”

“We aren’t talking about Voldemort here,” Narti said. “But seriously—how was it?”

Lance hid his smile behind his scarf before saying, giddily, “It was really good…” He felt like a school girl admitting he had a nice date. “Better than expected, honestly. I haven’t had sex like that in a while. Like, _ever_ , actually.”

“Aw, happy for you,” Ezor said cheekily, smiling sarcastically as she stood up from the couch, ready for the day. “Now we really have to move. Bus comes in five minutes.”

“Shit,” Lance squeaked, abandoning his mug on the counter as they hurried to the door. “Bye Narti!”

They ran down the steps of Ezor’s apartment complex and skidded out into the icy parking lot. She pulled him by the arm towards the sidewalk where they ran side-by-side with the bus that would take them to Uptown. They all but tripped up the steps to swipe their cards, and dropped down into an empty row of seats, panting from the exertion. Lance laughed, smiling like a child as he looked at her, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“So… are you gonna see this Keith guy again?” she asked.

“I hope so…”

“Do you have his number?” she prompted, and he gasped in excitement. He pulled out his phone, and searched for the name Keith put into his phone. Together, they stared at it. “Are you gonna text him then? C’mon, you should.”

“Right _now?_ It’s barely been three hours…”

“So?”

“But he left without leaving a note! Maybe he didn’t…” he started, but Ezor reminded him of the number in his phone. Why else would it be there? Why would Keith give out his number if he didn’t like Lance?

He decide Ezor was right. Just text the damn guy. 

He and Ezor read over the first message a dozen times over before he sent it: “ _Hey! This is your special someone from last night ;)”_. It was almost immediately accompanied by, “ _idk if this is too forward but honestly I could care less. We should hang out again sometime!_ ”

It took over twenty minutes for a reply to come, and by then, they were off the bus and wandering down into the basement of a clothing store far from the main road. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he eagerly retrieved it. A smile tugged at his lips as he recognized Keith’s name glowing on his screen. 

 

 

**Keith:** _Hey, I didn’t realize I gave you my number  
_ _I actually wanted to talk to you about something_

**Lance:** _Great! Would you want to get coffee or something?_

**Keith:** _Sure. When were you thinking?_

**Lance:** _I would say today, unless you think that’s too soon… then tomorrow’s fine! I’ve got class tho_

**Keith:** _No, today’s fine._

 

 

Lance set up a time and a place for them to meet up, and Keith was grateful because he could hardly think straight knowing exactly where this conversation would go. He paced his bedroom, preparing for the worst. Could he take a punch? Yeah, he definitely could. He wasn’t exactly a star athlete, but he knew how to take a hit. Lance didn’t seem like the violence type of guy, but Keith couldn’t be sure. He underestimated people before, and he wouldn’t do it again.

He dressed nice, hoping that would distract from what an asshole he was. He topped it with his heavy leather jacket and a scarf even though he was never really bothered by the cold. He, like many other people with his condition, hated the warmer states. With their aversion to the sun, states like Minnesota had long winters with cloudy days that were perfect for them. 

He took a deep breath and emerged from his room. Pidge was out in the living room playing games on the Xbox. She looked up at him as he said, “I’m meeting up with Lance.”

“I’ll prepare your coffin.”

“Thanks,” he said, and managed a soft smile behind his scarf. She gave him a thumbs up and went back to her game. As Keith disappeared behind the front door, he caught the tail end of a gun going off on the speakers.

Lance’s errands consisted of finding three crop tops for under twenty dollars, which was a steal in Uptown. So when Keith found him in a Spyhouse coffeeshop off of Hennepin, he had a triumphant smile on his face, and a bag full of his winnings. Keith eyed him warily from the threshold rug, and moved when someone opened the door behind him.

When Lance saw Keith again, he was reminded of the feeling that spread through him the night before, when he saw Keith out on the dance floor. That was nearly twelve hours from this moment, and in that twelve hours, Keith’s smile had vanished. Keith’s smile was what killed Lance that night—he had one of those full-toothed grins that radiated and spread, and made everyone nearby smile too. It gave Lance a cozy feeling in his chest and the desire to do anything to bring it back.

Keith crossed the wood flooring to meet Lance, who’s smile faded when he approached. “You don’t look happy,” Lance commented.

“Yeah, well, it happens,” he sighed, pushing himself up onto the stool.

“Let’s change that then! Take off your coat, I’ll get you something to drink,” Lance insisted, but Keith shook his head urgently, shutting his eyes. “Oh, come on—”

“I probably won’t be staying long,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “I just—I have something to tell you. About what happened last night.”

“Don’t tell me you regret it,” Lance sighed, rolling his eyes. When his attention returned, Keith was staring at him. “You do. Oh, God, I’m sorry—Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t. I… did, though,” Keith started, awkwardly as he realized that they were in a very public place. Thankfully, though, the music was on, and all the people around them were talking. They were close enough that no one would overhear them. “Usually it isn’t an issue, and I’ve never had to deal with it before, but… I should have told you that I’m… I suffer from something you might have heard called _vampirism?_ ”

Lance blinked at him. He leant back, looking out at the rest of the coffeeshop, at all of the people who didn’t know this. He stared at the floor for a minute as he brought a hand to his scarf, flattening it against the bite mark they both knew looked too gruesome to be just a hickey. He didn’t say anything.

“I honestly don’t remember a _thing_ from last night after we left the club,” Keith went on, hoping desperately that the silence wasn’t bad. His chest started to constrict, though, knowing that this quiet could only last so long. “Even drunk I’ve never—I’ve _never_ drank from a human before. _Ever_. I don’t know why I would have… All I… All I can really say is that… I’m sor—”

Lance’s hand whipped out so fast that Keith didn’t see it until he was slapped across the face. 

The crack of it caused the people around them to still, and it rippled like a rock in water. The entire Spyhouse went quiet, and even with the music it was starting to feel so incredibly empty. Keith put a hand to his sore cheek, and looked just in time to see Lance’s horror dropping to the bag he had on the floor. He grabbed it, shoved himself off the stool. He removed his hand from his neck only to take his coffee and run from the building. 

Keith sat for a moment, slowly registering the fact that his face was burning. He didn’t have breakfast that morning. It would probably bruise horribly, but he didn’t care, not when Lance was disappearing around the corner of the Spyhouse building, out of sight of the windows.

Keith pushed himself off the stool, racing between tables of people staring after him. He skidded out onto the sidewalk, shouting, “Wait, Lance! Lance, I’m _—_ ”

His voice caught in his throat as he saw Lance bolt onto a random bus going anywhere but that street corner Keith was standing on.

 

* * *

 

Everyone knew about vampirism. That was the more mainstream term for it, anyways, and Lance couldn’t pronounce the actual condition for the life of him. When he was in grade school, all of the teachers were old enough to still be traumatized by it, and so they drilled it into them during the course of an entire week during the year of health classes. It spread to other classes, too—biology, mostly, but also his current history classes.

So yeah, Lance knew about it. He knew a few people who had it because their parents contracted it one way or another. When he used to live in the dorms, the dining halls had special sections for students with the condition. It was a lot like celiacs, allergies, or diabetes, or other diet and blood related issues if they were contagious. Allergic to the sun—rashes, if exposed to sunlight too long, like an extreme case of a sunburn—and iron deficiency anemia, as the two main elements of vampirism. 

Children of people who are infected with it tend to be worse off and more noticeably vampiric, but back in The Sixties when thousands of people were turned without knowledge of it, people obtained mostly dietary issues and skin-related diseases from sun exposure. If you had the right diet and lifestyle, it was easy to overcome those issues, but… it was difficult for turned victims to cope, just like anyone abruptly forced to face the facts of being diabetic or diagnosed with celiacs. It meant rapid changes that weren’t necessarily… desirable. 

Lance put his head in his hands on the bus, reminding himself to breath normally. He’d have to get off this bus soon or risk ending up in the North Loop. He pushed himself up and prepared to get off the bus at the next stop. 

He had always been a healthy kid. No allergies to worry about. No braces. No glasses. Never broke a bone in his body. Any outsider would look at Lance’s childhood and adolescence and say, “Wow, your parents must have had it easy!” He was always proud of that, because he’d be lying if he said his parents never struggled. They had their fair share of financial instability. 

Vampirism meant expensive, specialty foods to cater to everything his body couldn’t do for him. As if he wasn’t already worried about getting a decent job before, now it hinged on whether or not he’d be able to provide to these new needs. All his friends who suffered from it tended to say how life without the right foods meant living in a daze, in and out of a dreamy state from a mixture of exhaustion and lack of nutrients. 

“I’ve spent entire days like a ghost. It’s just… like your mind shuts off but your body’s still moving just based on routine, you know?” Acxa once told him. Lance thought to himself, _Wow, that must be awful…_

Lance marched up to his next bus stop and crossed his arms against the frigid cold. After a moment, he clasped both of his gloved hands around his neck and tried to hold back a sob of frustration. Of everything that could have happened… Why hadn’t Keith just said, oh, you know, “I have herpes”? Lance would be able to cope with that, right? He’d be able to cope with that far better than fucking _vampirism_.

When he returns to his apartment nearly an hour after that whole endeavor, he checks his phone as it hits 10%. There’s messages from Acxa, and then… messages from Keith.

 

 

**Keith:** _I know you probably don’t want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either._

_But seriously, I’m so fucking sorry I never meant to blackout like that or whatever and turn you_

_I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that you’re probably gonna sue and I might go to prison and you know what that’d be fine but honestly if you need any help let me know? My mom always said the transition was rough so I’ll just start a list or whatever of shit you can expect to eat and feel and whatever_

**Lance:** _Please stop texting me_

 

 

Lance put his hands in his hair and collapsed face-first into his beanbag. He and Acxa weren’t on the greatest terms—he couldn’t imagine asking her for help. And despite how Lotor acted most days, he wasn’t a vampire. Vampires tended to be health nuts, and Lotor was definitely one of those... but nope, he wouldn’t be much help. Lance didn’t know very many people who suffered from it.

He looked back at his phone, where it sat quietly beside him on the cushion. No response from Keith—figures. Lance might as well have said “fuck off” considering he would have gotten the same reaction.

However, he was very much unaware of how busily Keith flocked to the market he and Shiro frequented for groceries. He grabbed a basket at the entrance, and filled it completely with everything he loved to indulge and more. Keith didn’t have the same palette as regular people did, so he grabbed a little of everything and hoped Lance would accept the offering and give it all a try.

Keith tried not to think twice about the price at the till as he swiped his card. If all went well, he’d go on to live another day in society, and if all went horribly wrong, then he didn’t need to worry about the price of anything. 

He carried two armfuls of grocery bags up to Lance’s apartment building. He snuck in with a passing student leaving the building, and hurried up to Lance’s door. He knocked with his boot, and waited anxiously out in the hall for an answer. _Please answer please answer please answer_ —

The lock clicked, and Keith could have sworn Lance just locked him out in the hall. The handle turned, though, and Lance peered out at him with red, tired eyes. Keith had an entire speech planned—he practiced it down the isles of the market—but all the words were lost when Lance looked at him then.

“What. What do you want,” Lance said, tipping his head against the door. “What’s in those bags.”

Keith looked at them, reminded of why he was here. “I, uh, I brought you some food. To test out, in case you start feeling... hungover. That’s what hunger usually does to me anyways. Um... I just got a little bit of everything. I wasn’t sure if... if you’d already...”

“No. I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Lance said, and made no move to let him in. “What, uh... what have you got in there?”

“Um... spinach, raisins, vampiric candies... protein shake powder packets for vampires...”

“What makes it for vampires.”

“It’s, like...” Keith started, but realized that Lance probably didn’t actually want to know what was in it. “Tastes like strawberries? And I eat a lot of quinoa, so there’s a bag of that too. And then there’s some shit you’ve probably never heard of, so… I don’t know if you’ll like it at all.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“I don’t—I don’t know, you eat normal food all the time. It might taste weird,” he said.

“Are you saying I can’t try new things.”

“ _No_ , I’m not saying—” Lance was grinning at him like the devil, and Keith rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Just take the damn bags.”

To his surprise, Lance laughed and pushed his door open. He stepped aside to let Keith in, and Keith let a breath of relief wash over him as he crossed the threshold. He went to Lance’s kitchen and set the bags down, saying, “A lot of this shit has to be in the freezer otherwise it spoils. It lasts a while so I usually just keep one or two around and then sauté them with spinach and shit. Rice is also good—it won’t make you feel like shit. It’s like filler food, but it won’t do much other than fill you up.”

“I like rice.”

“Yeah, but vegetables will start to taste like shit from what my mom’s told me about the transformation, so you can’t have fried rice,” Keith said, sticking the air-tight bags into the freezer while Lance watched him from the other side of the room. 

“Damn, I like fried rice.”

“You should be fine for today and the next, so I’d eat as much of it as you can before then. I also got you transformation vitamins, because you’ll be in the in between stage for a little while where you can’t quite take this or that it’ll just be like you’ve got the stomach flu until you’re completely onto your new diet,” Keith explained, shaking the bottle. “This was a bitch to find. The lady at the counter gave me a weird look when I bought it so I got you two—you won’t have to go back for more then.”

“Why?” Lance asked, and Keith just looked at him before putting the bottle on the counter and moving on. “Oh. Not many people shift, is what you’re saying.”

Keith didn’t say anything, and hesitated as he reached for the bag on the ground. He lifted it up quietly and set it on the counter. Lance stepped over onto the tiles, and started opening cabinets where he kept his food. Keith could already see that most of it would go unused after Lance’s transition was complete.

“How much was all of this?” Lance asked as he started shelving boxes. Keith took a few of the vampiric candies and stuffed them in the fridge. 

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Keith said, but Lance had already unbagged the receipt. Keith snatched it out of his hand and crumpled it up. “Seriously, Lance, don’t pay me back.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid I’m gonna turn you in. You’re trying to bribe me, aren’t you?” Lance said, and his amusement had Keith’s throat constricting, and his eyes burning all over again. He turned away so Lance couldn’t see, and distracted himself with tossing the receipt in the trash. “You seriously think I’m gonna turn you in?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know!” Keith exclaimed, unable to hide the shaking of his voice. “You might have complications and end up at the hospital, a- and they’ll ask who did it and y- you won’t be able to—”

“I can _lie_ , you asshole,” Lance snapped, and Keith turned around to stare at him. Lance glared at him, throwing his arms down with a groan. “ _Look_ , that was a _really_ shitty thing that you did there, but… I can handle it! Honestly! Like, considering how well I’ve done in the health department, something was bound to go wrong!”

“Well you’re awfully optimistic,” Keith scoffed, sniffing a little. 

“I’m _trying_ ,” Lance hissed. “I’m _trying_ to be optimistic! You’ve made it fucking difficult to be that, you know? What were you _thinking—_ ”

“I wasn’t! I wasn’t thinking!” Keith cried, and clamped his hand over his mouth when he realized that he absolutely screamed it. He covered his face. “I _told you_ , I blacked out after leaving the club. I don’t know what happened. I’ve _never_ blacked out before.”

His eyes dropped to the ground, and he watched Lance’s Christmas socks shift on the tiles. Lance crossed his arms, and turned his scowl to the bags on his kitchen counters. He couldn’t deny the fact that Keith looked trapped at the dead-end of his kitchen, stuck between two countertops and a wall, with the exit on the other side of Lance. Lance tried to feel some sort of victory from making Keith feel like shit, but really, he just felt guilty for trying.

“There’s no point in arguing over this shit,” Lance said, and he couldn’t hide the aggression in his voice as he threw another bag of _whatever_ into his cabinet. The names were all foreign.

Keith looked up to stare at him, and found himself studying the scarf around Lance’s throat. It was one of those hefty knitted ones, with tassels on the ends, and successfully covered everything that proved they saw one another the night before.

“I’m sorry for all the bruises,” Keith said quietly. He scratched at his arm when Lance looked at him then, turning away. “You’ll probably… bruise easily for a little while until you’re back on track.”

“I’ve always bruised easily,” Lance sighed. “Can’t say I’ve had a hickey look like this, though.” He pulled the scarf down where the bite was, and Keith could hardly believe he did such damage to another person. “When I woke up I was pissed about it, but I dunno. Kinda kinky.”

“ _Lance_ …” Keith groaned, reminded of ridiculous things his mom told him and he never believed. They learned briefly about it in high school, but there was no way the teachers would focus on how libido increased during the transition, which amounted to the main reason why vampirism spread so quickly in The Sixties. He walked around Lance to get to the door. “On that note, I should probably leave. Thanks for—I dunno. Being rational about this? I guess?”

Lance hugged an empty paper bag to his chest as he watched Keith reach for the apartment door. _Don’t ask him to stay, don’t ask him to stay—_

“Wait, Keith,” he said, and closed his eyes in frustration. _Damn him_ for being so weak. He opened his eyes and looked up to an expectant, beautiful guest getting ready to leave. “I’m not _mad_ at _you_ , exactly. I’m just mad at the situation. And I know we met at a club or whatever, but I’m still serious about us hanging out again. You don’t—You don’t have to go.”

Keith studied Lance’s expression, and Lance was relieved when Keith stepped away from the door. He stepped over to Lance, and Lance’s breath hitched when he reached for the scarf around his neck. Keith tugged on it lightly, tipping his head to look closer to see the mark, and to see how wide Lance’s curious eyes were. Keith leaned in slightly, staring at Lance’s eyes until Lance tipped his chin the other way, exposing the bruise that Keith tenderly kissed.

“I can say one thing, though, when it comes to vampirism,” Keith said, breath grazing Lance’s neck and sending a shiver down his spine.

“What’s that?” Lance laughed.

Keith’s breath stilled, and an instant later, he ducked and swept Lance’s legs out from under him. Lance went up with a cry of excitement, flinging his arms around Keith’s neck as he said, “You get a lot stronger! Carrying you is nothing.”

Lance giggled, holding onto Keith close as he carried Lance to the living room. “Wait! Wait, wait wait,” he said as Keith prepared to deposit him in the beanbag. “This isn’t my bed, you know,” he said, a cheeky smile on his face when he saw Keith’s ears turn pink. “‘Nother round?”

Keith threw his head back laughing, and carried on walking Lance to the bedroom. “ _Fine_. I’m insolvent.”

“Excuse me, I think you’re in servitude now. You owe me.”

“What do I owe you? There isn’t a cure,” Keith said, and all but threw Lance onto the bed. Lance bounced up, grabbing Keith by the sleeve of his jacket and forced it off.

“Well, for starters…” Lance said, swallowing hard as Keith pulled his shirt up, revealing inch-by-inch the smooth, toned surface of his stomach. Keith threw his shirt aside, and leaned over, waiting. “You can… start by doing everything I tell you?” he offered, voice squeaking from the way Keith smiled at him. Those sharp canines were a dead give away, but… Lance was too enthralled by that brilliant smile to care about anything other than Keith’s attention the night before.

“Done. Tell me what you want,” Keith demanded, prowling over Lance and pinning him to the mattress. Lance’s toes curled in excitement. He wouldn’t last the evening—not like this.

 

* * *

 

Keith was in the kitchen when Lance got a call from Ezor.

After their little evening bout in the bedroom, Lance’s energy was shredded into little bits and pieces that were difficult to pick up without feeling the urge to close his eyes and drift off to sleep. Keith envied him a little—insomnia kept him awake most nights, and he wondered why the transition made people _tired_ when later, they wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. Still, Keith figured Lance’s exhaustion had something to do with his hunger levels, and so he put together a bowl of fried rice and spinach for the both of them.

Lance’s phone buzzed beside his head, and he stretched up to it and blinked tiredly at the call ringing on his screen. He answered it. “Mm… hello…” he all but moaned into the mic, and grinned, expecting Ezor to laugh and ask what the hell he was on. 

“ _Lance!_ Thank God you answered—have you seen the news?” she yelled into the phone. He pulled the speaker away a bit, grimacing as he sat up and admitted that he hadn’t. He was distracted by _other things_ , fortunately. He leaned over to catch a glimpse of Keith, shirtless, in his kitchen. “Oh my God, something happened at the club we went to last night and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you feeling all right?”

At this, Lance sat up straighter, and pushed himself up to get out of bed. “Um… no weirder than usual?” _Lies_. He felt like he was on drugs. The world was hazier than usual, like the edges of his vision was stuffed with stretched cotton.

“Someone came in and spiked a _ton_ of glasses with this poison for vampires. A bunch of people with vampirism sealed, like, a dozen people in the club—like, _messy_ , they all blacked out and went apeshit. Was Keith…? I mean, you two spent the night together—did anything weird happen?”

Lance’s jaw dropped, clasping his hand over his mouth as he stepped out into the living room. It took him a moment to realize that Ezor was waiting for an answer. “Acxa’s really worried, Lance. Was Keith a vampire? I mean, I thought his canines looked kinda sharp but—”

“No. No, he’s not a vampire,” Lance said quickly before he could even think. Keith looked up at the mention of vampires, and watched as Lance put his hand on his forehead. “I’m fine. I’m fine, honestly, tell Acxa I’m fine.”

“Thank God. Lotor got hit on by a vampire last night—I’m glad Narti kicked them in the shin. Could you imagine if he got bit? I was so worried you might have,” she said, voice shaking with relief. “Okay, that’s all I had to say. You okay? You wanna hang out tonight?”

“No, I’m fine here. I’m just kind of exhausted,” he said, wandering up to the counter to lean his head against it. Ezor tried to prompt him again to come over, but he declined, again, and hung up shortly after. He stayed there, forehead to the marble, before lifting it to look at Keith.

They stared at one another until Keith finally said, “Did something happen? Does your friend know?”

“No. No, actually… apparently someone poisoned a bunch of vampires at the club last night. They all blacked out and started biting people,” he said, watching the realization dawn on Keith’s face. Keith’s jaw tensed, and he dropped his gaze to the counter where the bowls of fried rice were. “It wasn’t your fault, Keith,” Lance reminded him as Keith put a hand to his hair, releasing a shaky breath.

“Is it in the news?” Keith asked, and Lance shrugged, and started searching it on his phone. Keith did the same, food forgot as they sat together reading off the list of victims from the club. Lance’s name wasn’t on it, and Keith wasn’t sure why but it was a relief. There was no reason for them to know of Lance’s new condition anyways. 

They started eating a while later, and Lance moaned at the delicious taste of it. He’d miss this. Shortly after finishing the bowl off, and licking up the scraps, he started to feel his exhaustion fade. The aching in his head dissolved, and his attention was sharper. He looked at Keith, and it felt like he was viewing the world through a glass bowl for a moment. When his vision adjusted, he could see all the delicate fibers in Keith’s deep purple irises—they were nearly blue, and easily mistaken as anything other than vampiric.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asked, his smile hinting at his sharp teeth as he bit into his bottom lip. 

“I- I think I’m okay,” he said, looking away and clearing his throat. “Yeah, I feel better now.”

Keith’s grin was too perfect for Lance to look at without letting his self control crumble. “Good. Do you need me to stick around? If you need anything you could just call me.”

“I—” _Don’t be weak._ “I want you to stay, though.” _Fuck_.

Thankfully, though, Keith was understanding. “I can stay if you want. I just have to let my roommates know I’m not coming back tonight.”

Lance nodded wordlessly, fidgeting as Keith got up to use Lance’s bedroom for a private chat with Shiro. While Lance busied himself with cleaning house, Keith looked at the list of missed calls from Shiro, and assumed it was because of what he heard about the club disaster. Keith dialed up Shiro’s number and put the speaker to his ear. He answered almost immediately.

“Keith, I—”

“I’m at Lance’s right now. It went better than I expected,” Keith said, laughing lightly as he put his hand in his hair. “ _God_ , I’m so relieved. I’ll be staying the night so don’t worry about me.”

“Yeah, well, I am going to worry. The cops just left. They’re heading to Lance’s place,” Shiro said. “I’m guessing you heard about what happened at the club? Well, they took all the admission data and they’re doing a search for all of the vampires who were there that night.”

“ _Shit,_ what did you tell them?” Keith said, hand dropping to clutch at his throat. 

“You know I’m a terrible liar…”

“What did Pidge say?” he said, rolling his eyes.

“She said you came home fine and met someone at the club? You went to visit him today.”

“They’re gonna see his marks, though—”

“I know, just—Pidge says to try and give him some of your dummies and try and speed up the healing? She also suggests that you— _hey!_ ” Shiro shrieked, and a moment later Pidge was on the line, saying, “You didn’t drink a drop last night. You were a perfect little angel, offered to be a designated driver for Lance. Lance was only tipsy, you didn’t take advantage of him. You two are best friends now and it’s great, okay?”

“Geez, when did you become my lawyer,” Keith scoffed, walking out into the kitchen to grab the bottle of gummy vitamins he brought for Lance. “I’ll call you when it’s over.”

“Okay. And it sounds like all of the vampires are being punished for basically even _drinking_ , which is bullshit, and families are probably gonna be pissed at whoever turned their relatives. But if all else fails, Lance will get benefits but it’s not like the government’s gonna cough up a thousand bucks a month so I mean—”

“Can we get back to the point?”

“Anyway, if they don’t believe you, you brought your own alcohol against club rules whatever—better alternative to having drunk their shit. And Keith?” she said, “I _told you_ it was weird that you blacked out but you _didn’t believe me_.”

“I know, Pidge, you were right. You’re prophetic, I should always listen to you from now on. I’ll see you later,” he said, and hung up. “Lance, take, like, five of these.”

“What?” Lance squeaked from the sink. 

“We’re gonna try and speed up your healing,” he explained, and mentioned the fact that the cops were on their way. 

Lance shook out five gummies immediately and chewed them one by one. After taking care of that, Keith warned Lance not to freak out and leaned in to lick the purple marks peppered across Lance’s shoulders. Lance giggled and squirmed as Keith lathered saliva across his skin. He was laughing so hard he was crying by the time Keith got to his abdomen, kneeling on the kitchen floor. It must have been a sight, and Lance was so dizzy from giggling that he nearly fell on top of Keith. When Keith finally got back to his feet, the purple on Lance’s shoulders was already yellow.

He looked at the clock. They probably didn’t have more than five minutes to spare. “It’s not fast enough. Let’s try it again—”

“Oh G- God! K- Keith!” Lance shrieked, laughing like a maniac as Keith all but spat on his neck and rubbed the saliva around. “Gross! _Ugh!_ ” he cried, squirming around as Keith did the same to his shoulders. “It was sexy before but now it’s just _nasty!_ ”

“Shut up,” Keith said, his entire face red with embarrassment for having to do this. 

 

* * *

 

When the police came, Keith was struggling to put on a sweater, and Lance was flushed from laughing, but to the cops, it probably looked like they were just getting done with having wild sex. 

“Uh… Mr. McClain?” the officer asked.

“Yes, that would be me,” Lance said, breathless as the officer informed him that they had to speak with a certain Keith Kogane, who was pretending he happened to be wandering into the living room at that moment.

Keith wound up in the hallway where an officer asked him about the night before. An officer was left in Lance’s apartment asking, “Were you aware he has vampirism?” and Lance would spend the entire time trying not to laugh his ass off. Keith would wander in after all was said and done, and the officer would remind him to answer his phone if they happened to call. He got a business card slapped into his hand, and then the police were gone.

Once the door closed, Keith turned back to Lance, who waved his hands eerily in the air and mocked, “ _Did he force himself on you_?”

“Oh, piss off,” Keith laughed, shoving Lance in the arm. “You’re covered in my spit—what’ve you got to say for yourself?”

“Take a shower with me,” he answered, and they turned to stare at one another. Lance shrugged. “An order’s an order, _Mr. Kogane._ ”

“You’re ri _diculous!_ ” Keith laughed, and charged forward. Lance shrieked and laughed as Keith tackled him and heaved him off the ground. He carried Lance off to the bathroom, and continued to do everything Lance demanded of him.

It was the least he could do, considering he turned the guy into a fucking vampire. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE A VAMPIRE THING FOR A WHILE AND I THROTTLED MY FRIEND MOGI BY THE THROAT LIKE "GIVE ME AN IDEA" and she was like "ACCIDENTALLY TURNING SOMEONE INTO A VAMPIRE." And so I was like "BY GOD YOU'RE BRILLIANT!" so here we are.
> 
> Vampires in this fic suffer from insomnia, iron deficiency anemia, and they're allergic to the sun. Vampires that are BORN show more physical signs of it—they have purple or grey eyes, and slightly sharper canines. Blood is more of, like, a dietary choice, and it works like that mutant serum in the movie _Logan_ where it pumps em up for a short time and makes em hella strong. Keith drank Lance's blood the night before which was why he was able to carry Lance like he was nothing XD Their own blood doesn't have the necessary nutrients for that at most times, but if they're super healthy and its immediately after they've eaten, they can drink other vampires' blood (like how Keith's drunk Pidge's blood before).
> 
> [My tumblr :D](http://girlskylark.tumblr.com/)


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